Dreaming of You
by Shara Bey
Summary: According to Bennett legend, Bonnie was destined to dream of her future groom on her 25th birthday. Of course Bonnie doesn't believe in prophecies, so she's shocked to find her path crossing with a gorgeous stranger. Enzo St. John was everything Bonnie could ever dream for in a man. But she isn't willing to get too involved with him, since Enzo's an explorer in town for a few weeks
1. Dreaming of You

**_CHAPTER ONE_**

 _Late at night when all the world is sleeping_

 _I stay up and think of you_

 _And I wish on a star that somewhere you are_

 _Thinking of me too_

 _Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight_

 _Till tomorrow I'll be holding you tight_

 _And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be_

 _Than here in my room dreaming about you and me_

 ** _Dreaming of You- Selena_**

"I wish I was going to dream about the man I was going to marry," Sarah said and grinned. "I know how excited you are about it."

Bonnie Bennett looked at her sister. "Oh, yeah. Too excited for words." She fingered the soft lace of the nightgown she held. "Do I have to do this?"

"You don't have to do anything."

If only that were true, Bonnie thought with regret. But she did have to wear the stupid nightgown. It was her twenty-fifth birthday and time for her to participate in the family legend. Not that she believed in magic or happily-ever-after. As far as she was concerned, falling in love or caring about someone was a one-way ticket to heartache.

She opened her mouth to express her opinion, then pressed her lips tightly together. She might not be a believer, but her sister, Sarah, had more than enough faith for the both of them.

Bonnie stared into the face that was nearly as familiar as her own. Sarah was adopted, but younger by only six months. The two girls had been together since Sarah was four weeks old and they were best friends. Bonnie had shared her admittedly cynical opinion on more than one occasion, but Sarah's belief in the legend had never wavered. Who was she to try and change her sister's mind now? It was just for one night. What could it hurt?

"I'll wear it," she said, trying to sound gracious.

Sarah leaned forward and hugged her. "I knew you would," she said and bounced off the bed. Her long, raven colored hair swung around her face. "I'll go tell Aunt Lucy. Won't she be surprised?"

"Probably not," Bonnie muttered when she was alone. Aunt Lucy had a sixth sense about these things. No doubt the older woman figured she already knew whom Bonnie was going to dream about.

"I'm not going to dream about anyone," she said aloud as she pulled her T-shirt over her head, then slipped out of her jeans. "It's just a nightgown. It has no mystic powers. It's now the twenty-first century, for heaven's sake! No one believes that kind of thing."

She unfastened her bra and tossed the garment onto the floor, then picked up the nightgown. The cotton was cool to her touch and she shivered involuntarily.

"It's nothing," she insisted. But she hesitated before pulling the soft fabric over her head. What if the legend was true? What if she was really going to dream about the man she was destined to love? What if—"What if people have been abducted by aliens lurking in cornfields?" she asked aloud.

"Oh, I don't think those stories are true," her aunt said as she entered the bedroom. Lucy raised dark eyebrows. "So how much did Sarah have to twist your arm to get you to wear it tonight?"

Bonnie shrugged as she smoothed the nightgown in place. "Not too much. I figure it's an inevitable rite of passage for Bennett women, as inescapable as birthdays and taxes. I'm just sorry she's going to be disappointed in the morning."

"Yes," Lucy said as she moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. "It will be sad. Sarah is one of those rare types who is a true believer. There aren't many left."

Bonnie had turned twenty-five that very day, but suddenly she felt like a ten-year-old with a favorite relative staring at a less than perfect report card, all the while telling her the low grades were fine, as long as she'd tried her best.

"You can't tell me you believe in the legend," Bonnie said as she plopped down on the edge of her bed.

Lucy settled next to her. The older woman was above average height with the Bennett family's dark eyes and hair. She had to be in her mid-forties, but she could have easily passed for someone a decade younger.

"I've traveled all around the world," Lucy reminded her. "I've seen many amazing things. As for magic and legends?" She shrugged. "Who's to say what's real and what isn't?"

Bonnie snorted indelicately. "Give me a break. So you're saying that this nightgown is several hundred years old and is magical?"

"You never know."

Bonnie fingered the soft cotton. "It's in pretty good shape for an antique."

"So am I, dear." Lucy patted her hand.

"You're hardly an antique." She drew in a deep breath. "It would be nice if it were all true, but I just can't take that step of faith."

"That's the reporter in you."

"Agreed. But someone in this family has to be practical. Between you and Sarah, you've always got your heads in the clouds."

"I'm back," Sarah announced as she bounded back in the room. She held something in her hand and before Bonnie could figure out what it was, she tossed it in the air. Dozens of red, white and pink rose petals drifted over Bonnie, Lucy and the bed.

"My contribution," her sister said with a smile as she settled in the small wing back chair by the closet door.

Bonnie pulled rose petals from her hair. Her irritation faded in the presence of such loving support. Who was she to fight against tradition?

"You win," she said as she stood up.

Lucy rose as well. "It's best, dear. You'll see." She waited until Bonnie climbed into bed, then tucked in the covers. "Sleep well."

When she'd left, Sarah moved close and crouched down. "Dream of someone wonderful," she instructed. "Rich and handsome and very loving." Her wide dark eyes softened at the thought. "Someone who will want to be with you forever."

"What a romantic," Bonnie teased. "I'll do my best."

Sarah straightened. "In the morning, I want details. Lots of them."

"I promise. Oh, and thanks for the party. It was great."

Her sister smiled. "My pleasure." She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Bonnie leaned up on one elbow and clicked off the lamp, then settled onto the bed that had been hers since she'd turned thirteen. The room had been decorated several times, but except for three years in high school, she'd slept here her whole life. Everything about the room, the house and even the town was familiar to her. Yet tonight, it all felt different.

"Atmosphere," she told herself softly. It was all the talk of magic and legends. Even a confirmed cynic like her was bound to be affected.

She pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. Memories from her twenty-fifth-birthday party drifted through her mind and made her smile. She'd wanted something small, friends and family only. Sarah and Aunt Lucy had prepared dinner. The presents had been mostly gag gifts, which she preferred. Nothing sentimental for her.

She had a busy week planned at the magazine. She mentally listed all she had to do in the next few days.

As her mind relaxed and she started to get sleepy, thoughts of the legend intruded. According to family lore, several centuries ago a young woman had saved an old witch from certain death. In return the witch had given her a magic nightgown. If the women in her family—the Bennett family—wore this nightgown the night of their twenty-fifth birthday, they would dream of the man they were destined to marry. The union would be long and happy.

"Yeah, right," Bonnie muttered as she turned on her side. "He'll probably come riding up on a white horse and sweep me away."

She knew exactly what she was going to dream about—what she always dreamed about. Nothing. Her nights were as quiet and uneventful as an empty drawer and that was just how she liked them. The nightgown wasn't magic. The legend wasn't real. And she was suddenly very, very sleepy.

* * *

He apparent out of the darkness, not on a white horse, but in a Jeep that roared up the side of the mountain.

"This isn't happening," Bonnie told herself even as anticipation filled her. She clung to the side of the rocks as the wind whipped at her hair and made the hem of her nightgown snap like a sail.

"Nightgown?" She stared down at herself. Dear Lord, she was naked except for a thin layer of lacy cotton. What on earth?

"You're dreaming," she told herself. "That's all. Just dreaming. Go with it and you'll be fine."

But the reassurance didn't keep her heart from pounding as the Jeep drew closer. The man inside stopped it a scant two feet from her, then climbed out.

He was tall—substantially taller than her five feet two inches—and lean. "At least he's really good-looking," Bonnie said to herself. "I mean if I have to dream about some strange guy, I don't want him to look like the king of the nerds or something."

The man didn't speak. Instead he walked over to her, ripped off his shirt, then pulled her hard against his gleaming chest.

"I like this," she said, feeling the masculine length of his body pressing into hers.

"Hush, love. I am your destiny."

"Uh-huh. And I'm a direct descendant of Cleopatra."

She stared into his eyes she'd ever seen. The dream was amazingly real. She could feel the wind, the heat of the man's body, his breath on her cheek. She swallowed. She even felt him pressing up against her. Wow! She had to get out more. Her subconscious was obviously way too bored with her life.

"I want you," the man said.

"Then take me, big boy. I'm yours." she replied in a cheeky, yet joking tone.

He kissed her. Bonnie stifled a shriek of both shock and pleasure. Talk about going for it. His mouth claimed hers in the most perfect, masterful way. She felt small and delicate and incredibly free. This was a dream, after all. She could say or do anything she wanted and no one would ever have to know.

She clutched his face and pulled back. "I have one request," she said.

"Make it. I'll do anything for you."

"Great. Just don't disappear on me until we're finished, okay? I hate those sex dreams where I wake up about thirty seconds from the good part. It does not make for a restful night."

Instead of answering, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the cave. There a fire burned low. Their bed was soft, fresh, sweet-smelling straw. How nice of her brain to supply the details.

The stranger made love to her with a tender thoroughness that left her breathless and trembling. He touched and kissed every part of her. Much to her relief, she didn't wake up before the good part. In fact the good part happened at least twice. He even made her scream once and she'd never been a screamer.

"Who are you?" she asked when they at last stretched out together. They were both slick with sweat and breathing hard. She traced his perfect body, her fingers lingering on a scar on his left forearm.

"Your destiny."

"So you said, but do you actually have a name, or should I just call you Mr. D.?"

He raised his head and stared at her. His gaze was so intense, she felt as if she could see down to the bottom of his soul. Whatever lurked there called to her. She wanted to respond, but didn't know how. This was still a dream, right? It wasn't real. But for that second, she desperately wanted it to be.

"You'll know me," he told her as the world around them faded to black.

She tried to grab onto him, but his hand slipped through hers. Before she could even cry out, he was gone and she was alone.

* * *

"How was it? Start at the beginning and talk very slowly."

Bonnie blinked at the bright light and realized it was morning. She glanced around in confusion, then saw she was back in her own room, in her familiar bed. Sarah bounced on the mattress next to her and grinned.

"So, who is he? Who did you dream about?"

"What?"

Bonnie sat up slowly. Her head was spinning and she couldn't quite wake up. Maybe because she didn't feel rested. It was almost as if she'd spent the night running around. Or making love with a handsome, mysterious stranger.

She pushed the last thought away. Nothing had happened. She'd had a couple of weird dreams. They were probably the result of too much chocolate cake and ice cream. They didn't mean anything.

Sarah was still in the oversized T-shirt she regularly wore to bed. Her thick hair was mussed, her face flushed from sleep. "Do you mean to tell me you didn't dream about anyone? Not even one guy?"

Bonnie sat up and hugged her arms to her chest. Her body ached pleasantly and there was a definite dampness between her legs. Too weird, she told herself silently. But she did not believe in family legends. The dream had been a fluke, not a prophecy. She wasn't going to encourage Sarah's flights of fancy.

"I didn't dream of anyone," she said slowly, instantly picturing the handsome man who had swept her into that cave. It was all too embarrassing. What was she supposed to say? That the sex had been great, thank you very much? She couldn't admit anything to anyone.

Sarah's smile faded. "But I thought it was real." She sounded as if someone had stolen her last hope.

Bonnie grimaced. She had done exactly that. But she couldn't tell the truth. She just couldn't!

"I'm sorry," she said and touched her sister's arm. "It's just a nightgown, kid. Like any other."

"Okay. Aunt Lucy warned me the legend might just be a story, but I didn't want to believe her. I guess I'm going to have to." Sarah looked as if she was going to say more, then untangled herself from the covers and stood up. "I'll go start the coffee."

When Bonnie was alone, she collapsed back on the pillow. She felt strange inside. Off center somehow. Was it the dream?

"There is no legend," she said aloud. "The dream was just my subconscious way of telling me it's time to start dating. I'll take the hint. Today in the office, I'll look around for a likely candidate."

But as she walked to the bathroom, instead of trying to figure out which eligible men would interest her, she found herself picturing him. She shivered…not in fear or irritation, but at the memory of what his touch had done to her.

A hot shower went a long way to restoring her spirits. As she toweled off, she checked her arms and the tops of her breasts. Nothing. Just her regular skin. She'd half expected to see the lingering marks from his lovemaking.

"I must remember to ask Aunt Lucy if insanity runs in the family," she said as she chose her clothes for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, her hair was dry and she was dressed. She headed for the kitchen and that healing first cup of coffee. As she reached for the coffeepot, Sarah flipped on the small television. They usually watched one of the morning shows while they ate breakfast.

Bonnie had the pot in one hand and a mug in the other. Then a familiar voice filled the room and she froze.

"The gem exhibit is an exciting find," he said. "But I can't take full credit for bringing it to the university. It takes a very large committee to pull this kind of thing together."

Goose bumps puckered up and down her arms. She set the coffeepot back on its burner so she wouldn't drop it, and put the mug on the counter. Then, very slowly, she turned to face the television.

The camera focused on the perky hostess of the local morning show. Then the picture on the screen panned right. A man came into view. A handsome man. A man who, until sometime last night, she'd never seen before. But she knew him. She knew every inch of his body. She'd touched and tasted him, she knew his scent so well, she could have found him in the dark.

"Why do you think you're always the one to make the great discoveries?" the woman asked.

The man smiled. Bonnie felt her heart shudder in her chest, and she began to tingle all over. She might not want to remember, but her body wouldn't let her forget.

The man smiled. "Just lucky, I guess."

The hostess practically sighed. "Unfortunately we're out of time. Just to remind our viewers, Lorenzo St. John will be lecturing at the university on his fabulous gem find. There are still tickets available, but they're going fast. The gems themselves will be on display throughout the month. Mr. St. John, it's been my pleasure having you here this morning."

Bonnie's mouth twisted. The woman was practically cooing. So much for professionalism, she thought, refusing to acknowledge the white heat inside of her that some might call jealousy.

So her mystery man had a name. Lorenzo St. John. Which meant he was real. She thought about the nightgown, the Bennett family legend, the dream. Oh, Lord, it couldn't be true. He was not her destiny. He couldn't be. She didn't want a destiny like that. She avoided relationships.

It doesn't matter, she told herself fiercely. The man is in town for maybe a week. It's not as if I'll ever run into him.

"I've got to get to work early," she told Sarah.

"Don't you want your coffee?"

Bonnie was already heading out the door. "I'll grab some on the way," she called over her shoulder, and made her escape to freedom.

* * *

Lorenzo St. John was everywhere, Bonnie thought with dismay as she sipped her coffee at the small diner across the street from her office. His picture had been plastered on three buses and on four different billboards she'd spotted on her way to work. Even now he was staring at her from the bench directly in front of her building—or at least his picture was. She couldn't escape the man.

"Deep breaths," she told herself. The trick was to keep breathing. And moving. If he couldn't catch her, she would be safe.

It was too weird. All of it. Maybe she'd seen his picture over the past couple of days and not really noticed. Somehow it had gotten lodged in her brain and only surfaced last night. A perfectly plausible explanation.

If only the sex hadn't been so good.

"I don't believe in destiny," she reminded herself again as she left the diner and made her way to the foyer of her building. The magazine office was on the second floor. She stopped by reception long enough to pick up her messages.

"Cade wants to see you," Seline, the receptionist-gofer called. "Something about a special assignment."

"Great." That was what she needed. Something challenging to take her mind off her temporary insanity.

She dropped her things at her desk, then headed for her editor's office.

Whitmore Today was a small but prestigious magazine that came out twice a month. Bonnie had gotten a job there when she'd graduated from Whitmore College with a degree in journalism. Eventually she planned to make her way to New York, where the big magazines were published, but for now she was gathering experience and building her clippings.

"You wanted to see me, boss?" she asked as she stepped through the open glass door.

"Yeah, sit." Cade waved to the seat opposite his desk.

It was only eight-thirty in the morning, but his long-sleeved shirt was already rumpled and his tie hung crooked. If the clothes hadn't been different from the ones he'd worn the previous day, Bonnie would have sworn he'd slept in them.

"It's like this," he said, then stuck one hand into the pile of folders on his desk. He pulled one out, looked at the label, shoved it back and grabbed another. "Caroline Forbes's pregnant."

Bonnie nodded. Caroline was one of their most experienced writers. "She's been that way for about seven months."

"Tell me about it. Babies. Who needs 'em? Anyway, she says she's too far along to be running around for me. She wants to write stuff that lets her stay in the office. Can you believe it?"

His outrage made Bonnie smile. "Wow. How insensitive of her."

"Exactly. Does she give me any warning? No-o-o. She calls me at home last night and drops the bomb. So now I pass it along to you. Good luck, kid." With that, he tossed her the folder.

When she touched the stiff paper, Bonnie felt the same shivery chill she'd experienced the previous night when she'd slipped on the nightgown. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. She knew exactly what she was going to find inside that folder, and there was nothing she could do to change it. It was, she admitted, inevitable.

"He's in town for about three weeks," Cade said. "Follow him around. Shouldn't be hard. He wants this piece as much as we do. Decent publicity and all that garbage. Get to know the real man. Write me something brilliant and it just might be your ticket out." Cade looked at her. "A bigger publisher or maybe even a book deal. Do it right, kid. Breaks like this don't come along very often. Now get out of here. I'm busy."

With that Cade picked up his ringing phone and probably forgot she'd ever been in the room.

Bonnie gingerly took the folder and returned to her cubicle. She didn't want to open it. Maybe if she waited long enough, it would go away. Wishful thinking, she thought, and drew in a deep breath. She flipped back the top cover and saw him. He was standing on the edge of a mountain, leaning against an outcropping of rock. She recognized the clothes, the place and the man. She knew that just around the corner was a cave and in the cave was a fire and a bed of straw.

"I don't like this," Bonnie whispered. "It's too strange."

"I brought it," Seline said as she walked into the tiny space and dumped a stack of folders onto the spare chair pressed up by Bonnie's desk.

"What is it?"

"Research. All the stuff Caroline had gathered on that St. John guy. She said to call her at home if you want any tips." Seline's gaze drifted to the photograph. "Wow, he's good-looking. Just like that guy in the movies. You know—Indiana Jones. Although he doesn't really look like Harrison Ford. He's shorter. Still, I wouldn't shoo him away if he turned up in my bed." She waved her fingers and left.

"Apparently I wouldn't either," Bonnie said glumly. So much for escaping her destiny. In the space of twelve hours a strange man had invaded her subconscious and now her work. What was she supposed to do?

But Bonnie already knew the answer to that. An assignment like the one Cade had just handed her was one any junior writer would kill for. Talk about a stroke of luck.

Or destiny, a little voice whispered.

"I don't believe in little voices either," Bonnie muttered, "So I'm going to get to work now."

She spent the rest of the day reading through Caroline's notes, clippings from other articles and some information she'd pulled from the Internet. By four-thirty her eyes hurt and she had a major headache. She still didn't have a strategy for dealing with everything that had happened, but she needed to get one and fast. Her first meeting with Mr. St. John was in the morning at the university. Caroline had already set it up. He was taking her on a private tour of the gem exhibit.

She gathered up all the papers and stuffed them into her briefcase. Maybe she could work better at home.

Forty minutes later she pulled into the driveway of the mansion that had been in her family for over a generation. Safe at last, she thought as she climbed out. She walked up the steps and into the foyer.

"It's me," she called. Sarah's car hadn't been in the garage, but Aunt Lucy's had.

"We're in the kitchen."

Bonnie made a face. Aunt Lucy had spent much of her life traveling the world. She seemed to know someone from every possible corner of the globe, and at one time or another they all liked to visit. Who was it this time? A tribal elder from South Africa or some obscure prince from the Middle East? She felt that familiar wave of resentment toward Lucy for not being around when she'd needed her the most. But she filed those unpleasant thoughts away. She just wasn't up to dwelling on that tonight. And she wasn't in the mood to play hostess, either.

Still, she straightened her shoulders and forced herself to smile as she crossed the hallway and entered the kitchen. She already had her arm extended so she could shake hands with Lucy's mystery guest.

She came to a complete stop just inside the oversize room. Her jaw dropped. She told herself to close her mouth, but her body wasn't paying attention.

He was as tall as she remembered. Lean, powerful and too good-looking by far. Not a tribal elder, or even a prince. No, he was much more dangerous. He was Lorenzo St. John—the man from her dream.

* * *

 **AN: While I'm finishing up the ending for my other fic, I started working on something new. This features Bonnie, Enzo, Sarah Nelson, Lucy Bennett, Cade, Matt, and more... Enzo will make his appearance next chapter having an interesting dinner with the Bennetts.**

 **Leave Comments and let me know how I'm doing?**


	2. A Head Full of Dreams

CHAPTER TWO

 _Saying it's true_  
 _It's not what it seems_  
 _Leave your broken windows open_  
 _And in the light just streams_  
 _And you get a head_  
 _A head full of dreams_  
 _You can see the change you want to_  
 _Be what you want to be_

 ** _A Head Full of Dreams - Coldplay_**

"Enzo, this is one of my nieces. Bonnie. She's the journalist. Bonnie, this is Enzo St. John. I think you were watching him on the morning news show earlier today, weren't you?"

Lucy's question hung in the air, but Bonnie didn't answer. Enzo shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the round table. He was used to fans being tongue-tied in his presence, but Bonnie Bennett didn't look like the rabid fan type. Plus, she was staring at him as if he'd grown a horn in the center of his forehead. He brushed back his hair, casually letting his fingers touch the skin there, just to be sure.

"Hi, Bonnie," he said, and held out his hand. In the past he'd found that polite, social niceties often put people at ease.

Her gaze dropped from his face to his hand. She still looked panicked, but she responded automatically. "Mr. St. John. What a pleasure." Her attention shifted to her aunt. "You didn't mention company for dinner. I think there's a roast, but it's not defrosted. I could put it in the microwave and—"

"All taken care of," Lucy said, and patted the empty chair next to hers. "Get yourself something to drink and join us. Enzo and I were just catching up on old times. He has some wonderful stories. I'm sure you'll be interested in them."

Bonnie didn't respond right away. Her gaze settled back on his. Enzo read concern in her eyes and something that looked like apprehension. He held in a sigh. No doubt Lucy had been telling tales out of school again. The older woman loved to brag about his exploits. Okay, he was willing to admit that there had been a time when everything they said about him was true, but that was long ago. These days his life was practically boring. At least when it came to his conquests with women.

Bonnie moved to the refrigerator. "Would either of you like anything?"

"I'm fine, dear," Lucy said.

"Me, too." Enzo motioned to the bottle of beer in front of him.

Bonnie gave him a tight smile, then collected a diet soda for herself. She walked back to the table.

Enzo told himself it wasn't polite to stare, but Ms. Bonnie Bennett was very easy on the eyes. Short, at least five-two or -three, slender with big green eyes and short wavy brown hair tumbled to the back of her neck. She had a quite a bit of curves on her, she was woman enough to get his blood pumping.

If he had a type, she would be it. Fortunately he didn't have one, nor was he looking for anyone to keep him company during his brief visit to Mystic Falls.

"I'm trying to convince Enzo to stay with us while he's here," Lucy said, picking up the conversation where they'd left it when Bonnie had arrived home. "I've explained there's plenty of room and he won't be any trouble at all. What do you think?"

Bonnie was staring at him again. Whatever the reason for her attention, he found he liked it. She blinked twice, then looked at her aunt. "What? Oh, sorry. I was—" She took a sip of her soda. "It's just I've been staring at your picture all day. I can't believe you're sitting here in my kitchen."

Her words hung in the room like dust motes floating on a sunny afternoon. The silence lengthened. Bonnie sucked in a breath and flushed, as if she'd just realized what she'd said.

"That came out wrong," she said quickly.

"Not to me it didn't." Enzo winked. "The fan club can always use a new member. Did I mention I often take care of initiation myself?"

He was teasing…for the most part. Bonnie's flush deepened. Maybe the little town of Mystic Falls would be more interesting than he'd first thought.

He glanced over and saw Lucy's speculative gaze. Ah, so his friend was thinking about a little matchmaking. He drank his beer, unconcerned by her efforts. He'd dealt with much tougher than her in the past.

Bonnie cleared her throat. "Now you've seen me at my worst, or close to it. I don't usually make a habit of putting my foot in my mouth. What I meant was I'm a reporter with Whitmore Today magazine. The writer who was going to follow you around for the next couple of weeks and write the article won't be able to do it. Our editor assigned me this morning. I've been busy doing research."

A reporter. Assigned to him. He liked that. "Should be fun."

"Yes, well, I left a message at your hotel explaining the situation."

"I've been with Lucy most of the day," he said. "I'll be sure to listen most attentively when I get back to my room."

"You do that. There'll be a quiz in the morning."

She smiled then. A real smile without thought or purpose. Her face lit up, her eyes sparkled and he found himself leaning toward her, already planning what he could do to make her smile again.

Bonnie reached for her briefcase and unzipped the leather, unconstructed bag. "I believe we have an appointment at the gem exhibit at nine-thirty in the morning. Does that still work for you?"

In more ways than you know, he thought, but only said, "Yes."

"Good." She made a notation in her date book. "It will take me a couple of days to get up to speed. I have Caroline's research, of course, but I want to do some of my own. I'll try not to be a pain with all my questions."

"My life is an open book," he said.

Lucy coughed. "Really, Enzo? Oh, good. I was afraid there were some stories you wouldn't want me telling, but with your life being so accessible and all…" She turned to her niece. "Later I'll tell you about the time a tribal elder's daughter paid him to teach her how to please her husband. It seems that there was a problem with—"

Enzo groaned. "Lucy, have you no shame? That is private."

"I thought you were accessible. I thought you wanted to share yourself with the people."

"Not that much of myself. There are some things Bonnie should learn on her own."

Bonnie raised her eyebrows. "How kind of you to say that, but don't worry. I'm not interested in any lessons on pleasing the men in my life."

"They're all satisfied?"

"Completely."

In her tailored slacks and linen jacket, she looked professional and confident. He wondered if Lucy saw the slight tremor in her niece's hand as she picked up her can of soda. Bonnie was lying through her teeth. Which either meant she wasn't pleasing her man, or there wasn't a man to please. He found himself wanting it to be the latter.

Lucy chuckled. "I'm sorry, Bonnie. I'm giving you completely the wrong idea about Enzo. It's true that he can be a charmer when he wants to be, but for the most part he's a decent and kind man."

Enzo winced. "I thought you were my friend."

"I am."

"You're talking about me as if I were the family dog."

Bonnie leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. "So you don't want to be thought of as decent and kind? Secretly you long to be—" She pressed her lips together.

Indecent. His brain filled in the word and he shifted in his chair. What was going on between himself and Bonnie? This didn't make sense. The banter was fine—he enjoyed people who were fun and funny. But the sexual innuendo wasn't his style. Too obvious. Was it the lack of female companionship in his life, or was it something else? Something about Bonnie specifically?

Before he could analyze the situation, the front door opened and a female voice called out a greeting.

"That's Sarah," Lucy said, rising to her feet. "My other niece. She's the baby of the family."

"That's hardly fair," Bonnie protested. "She's younger by all of six months. You make her sound like she's still a teenager."

"Or that you're an old woman," Lucy teased.

"Thanks."

A young woman entered the kitchen. Her gaze settled on Enzo. "I saw you on television this morning," she said and grinned. Her long black hair highlighted her large brown eyes. Where Bonnie was short and curvy, Sarah was a good four or five inches taller and slimmer.

A nice enough young woman, Enzo thought as they were introduced, but not intriguing. Not like her sister.

"So you're a famous explorer," Sarah said as she reached for a pitcher of iced tea and poured herself a glass. Heart-shaped earrings glinted at her earlobes.

"That would be me. Larger than life."

Sarah settled next to him and sighed. "Do women gush when they meet you?"

"Only if they're incredibly discerning." He glanced up and caught Bonnie's smile.

"Are you married?" Sarah asked.

"Sarah!" Bonnie frowned at her sister. "Don't be personal."

"Why not? Well, are you?"

"You proposing?"

Sarah sipped her tea, apparently unruffled by the conversation. "No. I'm involved with someone. But Bonnie is single."

Enzo shot her a glance. So there wasn't a man in her life. Funny how that piece of information was suddenly fascinating.

"Thanks for sharing that particular detail," Bonnie said and rose to her feet. Her aunt stood by an electric frying pan sitting on the counter. "Can I help?" she asked.

"I'm doing fine. I'm cooking Enzo's favorite for dinner," she said.

Bonnie glanced in the pan, then over at him. "Pot roast?"

"Yup. You'd be amazed how hard that is to find in some places."

"I'll bet."

"There's chocolate cake and ice cream for dessert," Lucy added. "Both you girls will be staying for dinner."

It wasn't a question. The sisters exchanged knowing looks, and Enzo was pleased that he wasn't the only one Lucy bossed around.

"You don't have to if you have other plans. Although I would very much like the company." The latter comment he addressed to Bonnie.

"Oh, we aren't busy," Sarah said. "I'm only seeing Matt and I can call him and cancel."

"Matt would be your young man?" he asked.

"Uh-huh. We're engaged to be married." She held out her left hand. A thin gold band encircled her ring finger. The diamond set there was so small it looked like a grain of sand.

"It's lovely," he told her.

She beamed.

Sarah started asking him more questions. He answered automatically, most of his attention focused on her sister. Bonnie didn't rejoin them at the table. Instead she moved around the kitchen, doing odds and ends that to his mind looked like busywork. Almost as if she was staying as far away from him as possible. Did he make her nervous?

There was something between them, he thought. Some kind of a connection. He knew there were people who would dismiss a feeling that they'd met someone before. He didn't. He'd traveled too much and seen too many things he couldn't explain to overlook the obvious.

When he looked at Bonnie there was heat and desire, but there was also something else. An intangible he couldn't explain but that he wouldn't ignore, either. He wanted to get to know her better. At least circumstances were conspiring to assist him in his quest. If she was going to be writing about him, she could hardly spend the three weeks he was in town avoiding him.

She turned and opened a drawer. As she choose forks and knives, one fell to the floor. She knelt down to pick it up. The movement prickled at the back of his mind. As if he'd seen her kneel before. But when he probed his mind, the image that appeared to him was of Bonnie completely naked, kneeling on a bed of straw.

Not that he was complaining, but where on earth had that thought come from? He swore silently and forced himself to pay attention to Sarah and her list of questions. Thank God he was sitting down and no one could see the obvious and rapid physical response to his vision. Clearly he'd been without a woman for too long. He'd outgrown the appeal of a bed partner in every port, but he was still a man who had needs. At some point in time he was going to have to do something about them.

Sarah stopped her bombardment long enough to get up and fix a salad. Bonnie walked over to the table and began setting it.

"Pot roast, vegetables, mashed potatoes and salad," she said. "Not very exotic fair. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to run to the gourmet store and grab a bottle of chocolate-covered ants or something. Just so you'll feel at home?"

Her voice was low and teasing. She stood close enough that he could inhale the scent of her. "I think I can handle this."

He wasn't talking about the food, but did she know that?

"If you're sure," she said and picked up his empty bottle of beer. "I'll get you another one."

Sarah sliced tomatoes into the bowl of lettuce and cut-up vegetables. She grinned at him. "So when was the last time you had three women waiting on you?"

He thought for a second. "It's been a couple of months. I was staying—"

Small bits of radish hit him in the face.

"Hey!" He looked up and saw Bonnie prepared to launch another assault.

"That was an incorrect answer," she told him. "You should try again."

He eyed the piece of radish. "Lucy, you're not protecting me from these bloodthirsty nieces of yours."

"You were just bragging how you can handle things. So you're on your own."

"I'm seriously outnumbered."

Bonnie tossed him another piece of radish. This one he caught and popped in his mouth.

"No one here is impressed," she informed him, her eyes bright with laughter.

The teasing continued throughout the preparation of the meal. Enzo enjoyed watching the three women work together. They moved with an easy grace that told him they did this often. Their banter reminded him that on occasion his chosen life could be very solitary. Sure he loved what he did, but his lifestyle didn't allow for a home of his own, or many intimate connections. He had lots of acquaintances, but few friends.

He tried to distance himself from the situation, to observe instead of participate, but the trick didn't work this time. He kept finding himself pulled into the conversation. The sense of family was strong and he was the odd person out. As the three women joined him and began dishing up food, he realized he was the only man at the table. He liked that in a group.

When everything was ready, Sarah plopped herself next to him and smiled. "I have a ton more questions."

Bonnie took the seat opposite his, while Lucy was next to her. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know if I can answer anything without first getting an agreement that everything we discuss here is off the record."

There was a stunned moment of surprise followed by a burst of laughter. Both women looked at Bonnie, who raised her hands in the air. "Fine. I won't take notes, record the conversation or make any attempt to retain it in my brain. I'm sure that important secrets will be shared here tonight, but the public will just have to stay uninformed."

"So how long are you in town?" Sarah asked.

"Three weeks."

"Where were you before you got here?"

"South America. I was making arrangements to ship the gems. Before that I was in India."

Bonnie passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes. As he took it from her, she shrugged. "You'll have to forgive her. Sarah works with preschool children. She doesn't get out much."

Sarah gave her sister a mock glare. "Oh, and you've traveled the world yourself. I know you have a lot of questions, too. You're just pretending to be sophisticated."

Enzo leaned toward Bonnie. "It's working," he said in a low voice.

Her green eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn't quite register, then she smiled and looked away.

"What do you usually look for?" Sarah asked as he finished serving himself and passed on the mashed potatoes. "Bones and stuff?"

"I'm not that disciplined," he admitted. "I know it's important to study the details of life in lost civilizations, but I don't have the interest. I want to learn about the unusual. The mystical and unbelievable."

Sarah frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Magic. Objects that cast spells or connect the wearer to whatever gods that society worshiped."

Bonnie put some salad on her plate and gave him an innocent smile. "Remember that Indiana Jones movie, Sarah? The one where they were looking for the Holy Grail—the cup Christ is said to have used at the Last Supper. Enzo looks for stuff like that."

Enzo wasn't fooled. Bonnie might have just been assigned the story, but she would have spent the day doing research. She had to know that he loathed being compared to that fictional movie character Indiana Jones. There was no way he could compete with that kind of hero and come out anything but second best. Tweaking the tiger's tail, he thought. She obviously wasn't a pushover. He liked that in a woman.

Sarah stared at him wide-eyed. "Really? So you're interested in legends?"

"All kinds. Old stories, myths about the past."

"Family legends?"

There was something about the way she asked the question. Bonnie focused on her sister. "Mr. St. John doesn't want to hear about that," she said, her expression tight. "It wouldn't be interesting."

A mystery, he thought as he glanced from sister to sister.

"Just because it didn't work for you doesn't mean it's not real," Sarah said. "We have a family legend. The Bennetts do anyway. That's the family on our mother's side."

"Sarah, I don't think—" Bonnie began, but her sister waved her off.

"Ignore her," Sarah said. "She's a cynic when it comes to stuff like this."

"I'm intrigued," Enzo admitted. As much with the idea of a family legend as with the mystery as to why Bonnie didn't want him to hear it.

"The story is that several hundred years ago an old witch was being chased by some drunken men. They were throwing stones and yelling at her and she feared for her life." Sarah waved her hands as she talked, providing animation for the tale.

He spared a glance for Bonnie. She stared at her plate as if it had suddenly started forming signs and symbols in the mashed potatoes.

"A young woman heard the commotion," Sarah continued. "She lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of town. I think she was being shunned or something but no one knows for sure. Anyway, she invited the old woman in and protected her from the men. In return the woman gave her a magic nightgown."

"Really?"

Sarah's humor faded. "I'm not making this up."

"I don't doubt you. It's just clothing isn't commonly used to carry magic. It doesn't age well, is easily torn or destroyed. But it's not unheard of. What's the magic?"

"This is the good part. Every woman in the family is supposed to wear the nightgown on the night of her twenty-fifth birthday. If she does, she'll dream about the man she's going to marry. He's her destiny and as long as she marries him, they'll live a long and happy life together."

"I see." Interesting story. He'd heard several like it before in different forms. It was a common theme. Related stories were the idea of sleeping with a piece of wedding cake under the pillow, or the stories about Saint Lucy of Syracuse.

"Any punishment for not sleeping in the nightgown?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. Aunt Lucy? You're the one who knows the most about it."

Lucy shrugged. "There have been rumors of unhappy marriages when the woman didn't pay attention to her dream and married the wrong man, but I don't think there's a penalty for not wearing the nightgown."

"I'd like to see the nightgown," he said.

"Is that really necessary?" Bonnie asked. "It's just a nightgown. I mean you've probably seen a dozen just like it."

"Ignore her," Lucy said, rising to her feet. "She's crabby because the legend let her down."

More intrigued because Bonnie was obviously hiding something, Enzo leaned toward her. "What don't you want me to know?"

"Nothing." But her dark gaze avoided his. "It's just a story. It doesn't mean anything."

"It means something to your sister."

"Sarah has always been the dreamer in the family."

"Oh, and you're the practical one?"

This time she looked directly at him. "Absolutely. I only believe in things I can prove."

"Not magic?"

"Magic is skillful sleight of hand at best, smoke and mirrors at worst."

Before he could answer, Sarah returned to the kitchen. She handed him a soft cotton-and-lace nightgown. The fabric was old, but it didn't have the look or feel of something from a couple hundred years ago. He fingered the lace. Sometimes objects spoke to him. Not in words, but in images or sensations. A prickling along the back of his neck or a—She stretched out on the straw and reached up for him. Her eyes were bright with passion, her lips wet from his kisses. Slowly, so neither of them could doubt his intent, he knelt beside her and placed one hand on the inside of her knee. Inch by inch he drew his hand up toward the most secret part of her. The nightgown offered only token resistance, tightening slightly before sliding out of the way.

As quickly as it had appeared, the image faded, leaving Enzo feeling aroused and slightly disconcerted. He hadn't really seen much of the woman's face. Just her mouth. But he'd formed an impression of her, one strong enough to identify her.

Bonnie.

"What do you think?" Lucy asked, her gaze far too knowing.

He hoped his expression didn't give anything away. He cleared his throat before speaking. "It's antique enough to pass muster in a vintage clothing shop, but this isn't more than fifty or sixty years old."

Sarah's mouth drooped with disappointment.

"Hey, that doesn't mean the magic won't work," he told her. "Who wears it next?"

"I do," Sarah said, then raised her eyebrows. "Of course my birthday isn't for about six months. However, if you want to talk about a recent experience, ask Bonnie. She wore it last night."

"Really?"

Bonnie flushed slightly. "It was my birthday yesterday. Big deal. I wore it. Nothing happened."

He studied her, the smooth skin, the high cheekbones and firm set of her chin. She was lying, but about what?

"No dreams at all?" he asked.

"None worth mentioning."

"Maybe you should let us be the judge of that. After all, if you're so interested in my story, maybe you should share yours with me. Just to be fair." As he said the words, the image of her in the nightgown popped back into his head. No way, he told himself. It hadn't been him. He wasn't anyone's idea of destiny. The fates were smart enough to know that.

A timer dinged on the stove. Bonnie rose to her feet. "Saved by the bell, and I mean that literally. The cobbler is ready. Why don't the three of you go on into the living room. I'll serve the dessert and bring it to you."

"Ah, Bonnie, you're no fun at all," Sarah complained.

"I know. It's my lot in life."

"Don't worry," Lucy said as she linked arms with him. "We can use the time to convince Enzo to stay here instead of at some boring hotel. What do you think?"

Sarah clapped her hands together. "That would be great! Say yes, Enzo. I swear I won't bug you every minute with questions."

"Just every other minute," Bonnie muttered.

Sarah grinned. "Actually, she's telling the truth, but would that be too awful?"

"Not at all," Enzo said.

He was tempted. He would have accepted the gracious invitation except for one thing. Bonnie. Something about her called to him. He could still picture her in the nightgown and he was hard with wanting. If anything happened between them, he didn't want to worry about upsetting Lucy by taking advantage of her hospitality and therefore be unable to make love with Bonnie.

Talk about an ulterior motive, he told himself. If Lucy knew what he was thinking, she would want him neutered for sure.

Sarah took the nightgown from him and folded it. "We're supposed to wash it by hand using water from the first rain after the first full moon following the wearer's birthday. I've marked the full moon on my calendar. I don't want to forget. Bonnie might not believe, but I'm determined to make sure the legend happens to me."

Sarah stood up and caught Bonnie staring after her sister with an incredible look of sadness on her face. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but this wasn't the time, and even if it was, he didn't have the right. He was just a guest in the house. Of course there was the detail of the article Bonnie wanted to write. She was going to spend the next three weeks chasing after him, and if she played her cards right, he just might let her catch him.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for all the feedback guys, sorry it took a while to get the second chapter out, I started my new job last week and got very busy. Next chapter Bonnie will be interviewing Enzo.**

 **Also with Matt being Sarah's fiance, who do you guys think should be her dream future husband?**


	3. When I Saw You

**CHAPTER THREE**

 _Soft heavenly eyes gazed into me_  
 _Transcending space and time_  
 _And I was rendered still_  
 _There were no words for me to find at all_  
 _As I stood there beside myself_  
 _I could see you and no one else_

 _ **When I Saw You- Mariah Carey**_

"There is a perfectly logical explanation," Bonnie told herself as she exited the freeway and headed for the university. "Things like this happen all the time. It's nothing to worry about. I'm not going insane."

She braked at the stop sign and shifted her car into neutral. Her mouth curved up into a smile. "The fact that I'm talking to myself is not an indication of mental imbalance. I've always talked to myself. The trick is to not answer. At least not out loud."

The intersection cleared. She shifted into first and accelerated. Okay, so she was still feeling very strange about the dream she'd had two nights ago. Being exhausted didn't help. She hadn't been able to sleep at all the previous night, what with trying to make sense of everything. Obviously she'd seen Lorenzo's picture somewhere in the past, and his image had been lodged in her subconscious. It happened all the time. Sarah had been talking about the nightgown legend for weeks before Bonnie's twenty-fifth birthday. The combination of life pressures, family-legend expectations and Lord knows what else had created a very real dream. But it was only a dream.

The fact that Lorenzo had invaded her life the next day was merely coincidence. The world was full of them.

"I'm going to be fine," she said aloud. "This article is a great opportunity for me. I'm going to turn in a dynamite project, impress the socks off my editor and write my way into a job with a big New York publisher."

She drew in a deep breath. The spring air was warm, the sun bright, the sky clear. At the next stop sign Bonnie glanced around at the budding trees and green lawns that marked the outskirts of the university campus. For the first time in months she had the top down on her little sports car. The wind ruffled her hair and made her want to laugh. She would get through all this. She'd always been a survivor. If nothing else, she would keep reminding herself that Lorenzo St. John was just a man. Okay, he was very good-looking and the sight of him made her heart race. And maybe when they'd shaken hands yesterday she had felt a slight electrical charge, not to mention the fact that she didn't even have to close her eyes to picture him naked, next to her, on top of her, touching her everywhere as he—

"Stop it!" she commanded herself. "Don't go there. It's way too dangerous territory. Keep it light, keep it professional."

With that she turned into the parking lot by the exhibition hall. She found a parking spot by the main walkway and put up the top on her convertible. She'd barely finished collecting her leather briefcase when a black four-wheel-drive Ford pulled into the spot next to her. As she stepped out of her convertible, she had the feeling her car looked like a gnat buzzing beside an elephant. Then the tiny hairs on the back of her neck all stood up and a shiver raced down her spine. She couldn't think about cars or even breathing because she knew. He was there.

Sure enough, a tall, handsome guy climbed down from the driver's seat and circled around the front of the truck. Lorenzo wore khakis and a long-sleeved dark green shirt. His hair needed a trim, his boots were scuffed, and none of that mattered because there was a glint in his brown eyes that made her wonder if the devil was half so appealing as this man standing in front of her.

"Morning," he said. "I thought I saw you zipping by me on the freeway. You were talking to yourself."

Bonnie tightened her grip on her briefcase, then faked a casual chuckle. "Dictating, actually. I'm a journalist. It's an occupational hazard."

"I see." His gaze traveled leisurely over her body. The attention was as tangible as a blast of hot air. She found herself wanting to move close and rub up against him, just to make the moment complete. Before she could make a total fool of herself, he turned his attention to her car.

"Nice," he said, pointing at the silver BMW convertible. "You ever pretend you're James Bond?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes. She'd heard the question before. Yes, the car had been featured in Pierce Brosnan's first film as James Bond, but that wasn't why she'd bought it. Some of her trust money had become available a couple of years before, she'd needed a new car and she'd always wanted a convertible. She'd bought the car on a whim and had never regretted it even once.

But she wasn't about to explain that to Lorenzo. She was in a lot of danger with this man. He was the subject of a story she intended to write, so she had to get the upper hand. His respect for her professional abilities was required. But she had a feeling he wouldn't care about her years of study or how many articles she'd written. He exuded power the way flowers exuded scent. He would respect someone who gave as good as they got. She was having enough trouble trying to forget about the dream and ignoring her unexplained attraction to him. She refused to let him best her in a game of wits.

She made a great show of glancing around the parking lot. "Unless you plan on scaling a building or two, that four-wheel-drive monstrosity you've rented seems a great deal like overkill to me, Dr. St. John." She kicked the closest monster tire and smiled. "Of course, you're the expert in archaeology. Perhaps there's something I should know to explain this."

Their gazes locked. Bonnie didn't dare back down. Better to have gone too far than not far enough, she told herself.

A slow smile pulled at his mouth. His eyes brightened with humor. "Yeah, yeah. You called me on that one. I couldn't help it. I hate little cars." He took her arm and led her toward the exhibit hall. "Let's get one thing straight. I prefer Enzo to Dr. St. John and Lorenzo, okay? Let's keep things informal."

The victory was sweet, although not enough for her to ignore the tingling in her arm or the way her heart fluttered in her chest. "Works for me. I want you to feel comfortable."

He looked at her. "I do. I feel very comfortable."

If they ever made love, they would be in danger of experiencing spontaneous combustion.

She didn't know where the thought had come from, but she knew it was true. Dear Lord, the man turned her on. But she couldn't let him know.

"Good. Then you won't mind answering all my questions."

They'd reached the building. Enzo held the door open for her. "Not at all. We can talk about anything you'd like."

The hallway was dim and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust. They stood facing each other. "I have a whole list of things I want to ask you."

"I think I'd rather talk about you."

It took a minute for his words to sink in. Bonnie's body screamed a gratified "Yes!" when she finally absorbed the meaning of his statement. Her brain resisted. Was this teasing or testing? She didn't allow herself to think it might be an invitation. He couldn't possibly know about the dream. Did the attraction go both ways? The thought both excited and terrified her.

"That's not very subtle," she told him, pleased that her voice was calm. Shrieking would have been so unattractive.

"I can be if that's what you would prefer."

"What would you prefer?"

She hadn't meant to ask that question, but it was too late to call it back. Once the words were out, she really wanted to hear the answer.

The devastating smile returned. "I'd like to take you to an island in the South Pacific. Somewhere isolated and romantic."

"I'm sure you have just the one in mind."

"Of course. You'd like it. The indigenous population has a society based on a female deity. The social structure is matriarchal. In their eyes, men pretty much have one use."

Bonnie was grateful for the dimness of the foyer. She could feel herself flushing. Based on what she'd read about him, he was probably telling the truth about the island. Despite herself, she laughed.

"I should be insulted," she told him.

"But you're not."

"No, I'm not." How could she be, when every cell of her being responded to him. Not just because he was good-looking. In fact, that was the least of his appeal. Much of what drew her was his energy. She felt like a cat seeking out the warmth of the sun. She wanted to bask in his glow.

"Don't you have some gems you want to show me?" she asked in an effort to change the subject.

"Absolutely." He led the way down the hall toward the exhibit hall.

She fell into step with him. "You're not what I expected," she admitted.

"So you've been doing your homework. Did you think I'd be more scholarly?"

"No, although I'm sure you're the expert everyone claims. I guess I didn't think you'd be just a regular guy. I try not to form too much of an impression of someone before I meet him. I don't want to be writing the article in my head too early. But in your case, that was more difficult than usual. There's a mythical element to your press clippings."

"Tell me about it." He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. "Despite the press trying to make it seem otherwise, I'm not Harrison Ford or Indiana Jones." His mouth twisted. "I can't tell you how many times those comparisons have been made."

"How often do you come out ahead?"

"Good question." His features relaxed a little. "We're running about fifty-fifty. You wouldn't believe the people who have trouble understanding that he's an actor portraying a fictional character. What happens in the movies has very little to do with real life. But people have expectations."

"You don't want to disappoint them," she said guessing.

"Of course not. But I'm not a larger-than-life character. Who can compete with a movie legend? This is real life. I don't get a second take to make sure the line is said just right."

"I would guess that the fans who most want you to be like Indiana Jones are the ladies," she said.

He groaned. "They bring me hats like his. And whips."

Bonnie wasn't sure what to say to that. "I see."

He winked. "Of course some of them have been quite satisfied with reality."

I certainly was.

She jumped. Had she said that or just thought it? Her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her expectantly. Her heart, which had stumbled a couple of beats, resumed its steady thudding. She must have just thought it. Thank goodness. Enzo could never know about that night—or her dreams.

"Bonnie, I'm sorry. I was just teasing. If it bothers you, I'll stop."

His statement didn't make sense for a second. Then she realized she'd been quiet and he probably thought she'd been insulted by his comment. "It's fine," she told him.

He shrugged. "Seriously, there was a time when I enjoyed all the press and comparisons. I worked hard to live up to the hype."

"A girl in every port?"

"Something like that."

"What happened?"

"I grew up. It got old. I've learned that quality is the most important part of a relationship."

That surprised her. "So you're a romantic at heart?"

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. "Yes. But not the way you mean it. If you're asking if I believe in love, the answer is no."

That didn't make sense. "You said you believe in magic."

"Of course. One doesn't have anything to do with the other. Magic exists. Love is the myth."

"No way. I've never seen magic at work, but you only have to look around to know love is everywhere. Parents and their children, couples who have been together fifty years, kids with their pets. How can you deny all that evidence?"

He stepped toward the wide double doors that led to the exhibit. "It's surprisingly easy," he said, pulled a key from his pocket, turned the lock and pushed open the right door.

As she moved to step inside, she was instantly assaulted by cool air. The light was even more dim inside, with only an illuminated path to guide them. A shiver rippled up her spine, but this one was from nerves, not attraction. Bonnie instinctively fingered the heart-shaped locket she wore around her neck.

"This way," Enzo said with the confidence of someone who could see in the dark.

They'd taken about two steps when a voice stopped them. "You can't come in here," a man said. "The exhibit isn't open yet." Seconds later a bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her.

"It's okay, Beau," Enzo said. "This is Bonnie Bennett. She's a journalist. I brought her by to show her the exhibit."

The light clicked off and a security guard stepped out of the shadows. "Oh, sorry, Dr. St. John. I didn't know it was you." The forty something man smiled. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I will, Beau, thanks."

When they were alone again, Enzo motioned to the dark draperies on either side of the lit path. "The entrance is going to have blown-up photographs showing some of the ruins, that sort of thing. Ric Saltzman, a friend of mine, is composing appropriate music. Whatever the hell that means."

Bonnie chuckled with him. "Probably something with a South American flavor."

"Probably."

They continued down the walkway toward bright lights. Dark drapes gave way to glass cases exhibiting tools, bowls and animal hides fashioned into primitive clothing. Enzo briefly explained the significance of the items.

"I constantly offend my colleagues," he admitted, not looking the least bit concerned by the fact. "I know I should be interested in this kind of thing." He motioned to a row of cutting knives. "They are the basis for understanding how a people lived day by day. But I'm a true romantic. I find the living more interesting than the dead, even the long-dead, and I prefer magic to reality. I don't care what they used to skin their kill. I want to know how they prepared for the hunt. I want to learn the rituals and hear the songs." He shrugged. "As I'm frequently reminded, religion and magic have their place, but a good knife in the hands of a skilled hunter can keep a family alive for the winter."

Bonnie studied the honed cutting edges. "But religion feeds them as well—their souls rather than their bodies. That has to count for something."

"Exactly."

Enzo beamed at her as if she were a rather dull student who had finally come up with the right answer. She barely noticed, being too busy wondering where on earth that thought had come from. She was way too pragmatic to be concerned about the state of anyone's soul.

"I'm glad you see my point," he told her. "However, there are a few people I can't seem to convince. They're much more into the physical than the spiritual. We need to go through here."

He led the way into a brightly lit alcove. There was a closed door at the far end. He knocked once. Another security guard stepped out. "Yes, Dr. St. John?"

"Liam, I made arrangements to show Ms. Bennett the gem collection. You ready to unlock the cases for me?"

The guard, a young man of Bonnie's age, nodded seriously. "Yes, sir. Let me get the keys and disable the alarm."

When he disappeared back into the room, Enzo winked at her. "Liam is in charge of the gems. He's very proud of that. He'll be accompanying us. With him around, we can unlock the cases and you can actually touch the stones."

"I'd like that." She stared at him. "How long have you been in town?"

"A couple of days. Why?"

"You seem to know everyone's name. Or is that just a habit with security guards?"

"I told you. I'm interested in the living."

Liam joined them, cutting off any further chance for conversation. He led the way to the last room. The walls were plain black. Tall glass cases formed a staggered line down the center. Spotlights illuminated their precious cargo.

Enzo nodded at the first case. "We'll start at this end and work our way down." As Liam unlocked the case, Enzo sighed heavily. "I found them, but do they trust me with them now?"

"Sorry, sir," Liam said without cracking a smile. "I'm following the rules."

Bonnie moved close to the display. The door opened and Enzo reached inside to pick up a huge pink stone. It was the size of an orange, with an irregular shape. He held it with a reverence that made her nervous about taking it from him when he offered it to her.

"This will heal you," he said. "Arthritis, stomach trouble, anything internal. I don't think it would work on a broken bone, although I could be wrong. Some of the incantations were written down. We've found pieces on tablets and animal hides. The tribe is obscure. The language is tough. Not related to other Indian tribes in the area. I don't have any of the incantations with me, so just think good thoughts while you hold it and hope for the best."

She took the stone from him. It was heavier than it looked. The top was bumpy, but the bottom was smooth and fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. She studied the way the light glinted off the facets.

"They didn't find the stone this way, did they?" she asked.

"No. It's been cut. There are definite markings. That's one of the mysteries. The tools we found aren't strong enough or sharp enough to have done this, so how did it happen?"

She handed him back the stone. "Do you have a theory?"

"Of course. But you're going to have to come to my lecture series to hear what it is."

He put the stone back in the case, waited until Liam locked it, then moved to the next exhibit.

There were stunning gems used in religious ceremonies, more healing stones, some of undetermined purpose. Enzo talked about them all, as if they were well-loved friends. When they were at the last case, he removed a huge diamond nestled in a flower-shaped bed of gold. The object was so heavy, she had to use both hands to hold it.

"Close your eyes," Enzo instructed. "Focus on the stone."

Bonnie did as he requested. Instantly, the diamond began to glow. She frowned. That was impossible. For one thing, she had her eyes closed. How could she know if something was glowing or not? For another, she didn't believe in the mystical. But she could feel the heat and would have sworn she saw the light.

"This is a loving stone," he said. "It would have been used in ancient weddings to bind a couple together."

Instantly she could see the cave, the two of them entwined on their bed of straw. Which was crazy, right?

As the image filled her brain, the stone definitely brightened. Bonnie stiffened and opened her eyes. She stared at the diamond. Nothing about it had changed. It wasn't glowing at all, and now that she was paying attention, there really wasn't any heat.

Enzo took the stone from her and returned it to Liam. After thanking the guard, he led her out of the exhibit hall. There was a small garden behind the building. Stone benches surrounded an inverted fountain.

Still confused by what had happened, she settled on one of the benches. He took a seat next to her.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"It's very impressive. I can see why you enjoy your work and why you have such a following. You've brought a great find to national attention."

He dismissed the compliment with a wave. "I haven't done anything that special. I followed a few clues, refused to give up when other people did, but I'm no hero. There are a lot of great scholars out there. I'm just some guy interested in pretty rocks and religious icons."

"You're selling yourself a little short, aren't you?"

"Not really. When I met Benedict Allen, I was so impressed, I couldn't talk. He was my idol. I don't say that lightly. I've met many impressive people, but he was the best."

Interesting. She made a mental note. That information could add some depth and human interest to her story. "Are there any important people you haven't met yet who intrigue you?"

His smile was slow and lazy. It should have warned her. He relaxed back in the bench. "Yesterday I would have said yes, because until yesterday I hadn't met you."

It was a line, she reminded herself. But it was a good one. "Not bad."

His smile didn't fade, but something dark and dangerous crept into his expression. "I wasn't kidding, Bonnie. I know you felt it, too. The energy when you were holding the diamond. Did the stone glow when you closed your eyes? That's supposed to be significant."

She tried swallowing, but her throat was too tight. When coughing didn't clear it, she decided to ignore both the sensation and the question. She opened her briefcase and pulled out a small handheld tape recorder.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions," she said.

He eyed the machine. "Obviously we're on the record."

"We have been all morning."

His gaze sharpened. "Really? That surprises me." He crossed his ankle over his opposite knee. "Ask away."

The sun was warm, but the heat filling her body came from the inside. There was something about him, about his relaxed posture. She angled away from him, but even so, the bench was suddenly too small. She felt confined and much too close. She could inhale the masculine scent of his body. Her mind didn't want to focus on questions or interview techniques. She wanted to move closer still; she wanted to run away.

Neither possibility was wise, she reminded herself, so she dug out a list of questions she'd prepared the previous night when she couldn't sleep.

"You traveled with your grandfather for most of your formative years," she said.

"That's right. He showed up one day when I was about three or so, and took me with him. One of my first memories is riding a yak somewhere in Tibet." He stretched out his arms along the back of the bench. His strong tanned fingers lay within inches of her shoulder and she tried not to notice.

"Grandfather traveled in style," he continued. "At heart, he was an adventurer. Fortunately the family had money, so he was able to go where and when he wanted. He'd run guns into Africa before the Second World War. He knew heads of state, from Nixon to obscure tribal elders in kingdoms the size of a grocery store. He would decide to spend a summer somewhere or maybe a winter, but we never stayed longer than a few months. Grandfather loved to be moving on."

Bonnie knew this from her research. "He arranged for tutors?"

Enzo nodded. "Sometimes several at once. I studied for hours every day. When I was fourteen, he put me in university, Oxford, then I moved to Egypt for a year or so. India, South Africa. I have an assortment of degrees." He grinned. "None of them practical."

"Are you an adventurer, too?"

"In a manner of speaking. I've tried to be more methodical, to use what I know to discover the past. Grandfather wanted to travel for the sake of being gone. I want to accomplish something."

She looked at him. From where she was sitting, he looked like a fairly normal guy. Perhaps he was a little too good-looking, but otherwise, he seemed to be much like the rest of the world.

"You're staring," he said. "Is there a reason?"

She shook her head. "You're so different from anyone I've ever known. My stepfather's family is one of the founding families of this town. My mother's maiden name is Bennett. The Victorian house has been in my stepfather's family for generations. I've traveled some, but not like you. The Lockwoods have been in this valley for more than a hundred years."

He shrugged. "Roots aren't a bad thing."

"I know. I'm not unhappy with my life. I'm just wondering what it would be like to have lived yours." She tried to imagine always moving around, never knowing where one was going next. The thought wasn't pleasant.

She remembered the running tape and the fact that this was supposed to be an interview. "Okay, next question. I know your mother died shortly after you were born. When did your father pass away?"

If she hadn't been studying him so closely, she wouldn't have noticed the subtle stiffening of his body. "My birth father is alive and well. At least he was the last time he called me."

"But you grew up with your stepfather. He took you away when you were three."

"I know."

"Why didn't you stay with your father?"

"It just worked out that way."

The journalist in her jumped onto the detail. Questions sprang to mind. Had there been a problem? An estrangement? Some legal issues? Why had Enzo's father let his only child be taken from him and subjected to such an odd upbringing?

"You're going to pursue this line of questioning, aren't you?" Enzo sounded more weary than annoyed.

"Yes. I'm figuring out which way to go."

He didn't answer. Instead he raised his head to the sun. "It's warmer than I thought it would be," he said.

"We're about ten degrees above normal for this time of year."

"I should have dressed for it." He reached for his right cuff and undid the button.

All the questions and strategies about how best to handle the interview fled from her mind. The entire world disappeared as she focused her attention on those long fingers and his casual act.

He finished rolling up the right sleeve and started on the left. She knew what she was going to see there. Despite the fact that she'd only met the man yesterday and that he'd been wearing long sleeves then, too. Despite the fact that none of the photos in her research files showed him in anything but long sleeves. She knew about the scar because she'd seen the man naked in her dreams.

That wasn't real, she reminded herself. It hadn't really happened. So when he rolled up the sleeve, there wasn't going to be a knife scar on the inside of his left forearm. Except she knew that was exactly what she was going to see.

She stopped breathing.

He made one fold of the fabric, then another. The tail of the scar came into view. She told herself this wasn't really happening, except it was and she didn't know how to make it stop.

He caught her stare. "It's not so bad," he said, motioning to the scar. "Want to hear how it happened?"

"I can't," she said, her voice tight. "I can't. I have to—" She couldn't think of a real excuse so she didn't bother making one. Instead she gathered up her notes and her tape recorder and thrust both into her briefcase.

It was too much to take in. The dream and the man and the fact that she'd known what the scar looked like before she'd even seen it.

"I'll be in touch," she managed as she scrambled to her feet and headed for the parking lot.

"Bonnie? Is something wrong?"

She held him off with a wave. As soon as she was on the far side of the garden, she began to run. It was only when she tried to fit her key in the lock that she realized she was blinded by tears she could neither explain nor understand. What on earth was happening to her?

* * *

 **AN: Almost July I know it's been 3 months. The Untold Secrets of Bonnie and Enzo, if you haven't read it do so. It's a completed Bonenzo fic filled with angst, drama and heartache but it ends on a happy note. Also it's motivated me to get back on here plus the deleted bonenzo scenes on YouTube.**

 **Can you believe how many Bonenzo scenes were cut for Sybil's ass. THERE WAS A BLOOD SHARING SCENES GUY! Anyways didn't matter if they kept those scenes Enzo's still dead and Bonnie off alone traveling.**


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